


Du Gehörst Zu Mir

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Quickies, Reise Reise Era, Semi-Public Sex, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 08:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16322852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Richard is naturally an affectionate person. Schneider doesn't like to share him.





	Du Gehörst Zu Mir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FayN3ko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayN3ko/gifts).



> Title translation: "You belong to me"
> 
> This is a second place giveaway prize for @fayn3ko on Tumblr!! Hope you like it, Fay ♡

“You should try this one on, Richard,” Paul calls, mid-laughter, earning a glance from both Richard and Schneider, who stand together at a rack of clothing. Paul is displaying a button-up shirt—which has an atrocious pattern alike to that of a carpet. Richard’s eyes light up. Schneider groans with dread. Richard reaches out to snatch it up, saying animatedly, “This shirt is so awful, it’s cool!”

“Right?!” Paul laughs, a broad grin spreading across his face. Richard twists the shirt around and eyes it up, smiling—beside him, Schneider just shakes his head, and gives Paul a death glare. Paul notices and shrugs with a lift of his hands, blurting, “What? I knew he would like it!”

“That’s precisely why you shouldn’t have brought it to his attention. Now he may _buy_ _it_. And _wear it_.”

Richard snorts and hooks it over his arm.

“I’m going to at least try it on, that’s for sure.”

“Richard,” a softer voice speaks up. The trio glance over to see Ollie approaching with what seems to be a pair of sunglasses in his hands. A slight smile grows on his lips as he raises it towards the other man. Richard looks up at him with wide eyes and a developing grin—Ollie slips the sunglasses on, adjusts them on the bridge of his nose. They’re pink-tinted, oval-shaped, with blue gems glued along the frame. Paul snorts and points at Richard amongst his giggling, saying, “The German Elton John!”

That has Schneider cracking a laugh. Richard spins towards the mirror on the wall, steps up to it and fixes the position of the glasses on his face. He laughs and blurts with amusement, “Where the hell did you find this abomination?!”

“Over there,” Ollie provides lamely, gesturing to the display of sunglasses. Richard turns to face the taller man and beams up at him. He reaches out to sling an arm around his shoulders, gently tugs him down to meet his height, and then removes the outrageous sunglasses to slip them onto _his_ face. Ollie smiles quietly. Richard arches up to smooch his temple, grinning, and then says with amusement, “Looks much better on you, doesn’t it?”

Ollie peeks up at his reflection and arches a brow.

“I look like a tool.”

“Alright, alright,” Schneider cuts in suddenly, stepping closer, earning the eyes of his two bandmates, “No need to strangle Ollie like that.”

Richard rolls his eyes and remarks with sarcasm, “Oh, you’re so right, Schneider. How dare I hurt this _fragile_ giant?”

Ollie is quiet as Richard removes his arm from around his shoulders. Richard pats him on the chest, gives him a tight-lipped smile, and then looks at Schneider with an unamused cock of a brow. Paul then comes running up, brandishing an equally ridiculous pair of sunglasses from the rack. He puts it on, spins around, and then throws his arms out in an overly dramatic display that has Ollie cracking a smile.

“I look _fabulous!”_ Paul sings sarcastically, grinning broadly. Ollie reaches out to nudge him on the shoulder, earning a sharp laugh from the smaller man. Meanwhile, Schneider gently grabs Richard’s bicep and pulls him aside to one of the racks of clothing. Paul is rambling on about integrating the absurd glasses into his stage costume, effectively distracting both himself and Ollie. There are a few customers around them, browsing in their own little worlds, so Schneider lowers his voice to prevent disrupting them.

“You needn’t be so clingy in public, Richard,” he chides, looking down into Richard’s defensive green eyes with a firmness in his own. Richard huffs and pulls his arm out of Schneider’s hold.

“Whatever. I’m going to go try this top on, because I happen to like it.”

“Of course you do,” Schneider huffs a laugh, smiling a little. Richard watches him warily, unsure of his fluctuating attitudes. Schneider reaches up to ruffle his black, gelled locks—he knows Richard hates it when he does that. Richard clicks his tongue and shoves his wrist away. Schneider laughs and hooks his arm around his neck, pulling him into a rather awkward hug. Richard lets him, silent and tense.

“Come on,” Schneider says. He peeks over to see Ollie and Paul browsing the shoes now. Good, they’re occupied. Schneider takes Richard’s bicep in hold again and leads him towards the dressing room at the back of the store. Richard follows after him, saying impatiently, “You’re being grabby today, Schneider. If you’re unaware, I’m not eight years old.”

Schneider lets him go, throws an unamused glance back at him past his curls, and then focuses his attention on the attendant at the dressing room, requesting entrance. After she unlocks the door, Schneider and Richard step inside. Maybe a little questionable for both of them to go in, but it’s not like the attendant would think they have ulterior motives. Though that’s exactly what they have. At least, Schneider does.

“Why did you follow me in? Don’t tell me you wanted to see me in this hot piece!” Richard snorts as he unhooks his sunglasses from the collar of his tank top. He then pulls off the shirt, exposing his abs and muscular chest. Schneider crosses his arms and watches with a faint smile. Richard tosses his top onto the bench and then reaches for the gaudy, eye-sore button-up. But before he could begin putting it on, Schneider steps closer and reaches out to slide both broad hands up over Richard’s neck, earning a snap of green eyes. He cups his cheeks, thumbs resting along his jawline. Richard looks at him silently.

“You are mine,” Schneider murmurs, stroking his thumb down over his plush lips, his vibrant blue eyes lidded and searching in Richard’s with intense adoration, “You know that, right? I could never share you.”

“Christoph,” Richard begins with a bashful look, a reluctant frown on his face, “We talked about this. I’m a naturally affectionate person.”

“I know,” Schneider whispers, stepping closer, leaning in over him, cupping his face almost desperately, like he was fragile, precious, “I know. I’m sorry. I can’t help how I feel. I just want you to myself. I want your eyes to always be on me. I want—I-I don’t know. Everything.”

A slight, tired smile appears on Richard’s lips. He looks up at Schneider fondly. He nods.

“I don’t think about anyone else, you know,” Richard murmurs, almost shyly. He raises a hand to cup it over Schneider’s. A weak, pleased smile twitches at the older man’s lips. He strokes his thumb across Richard’s cheek. Searching in his eyes, tenderly, warmly.

Then Schneider angles his head and leans in to kiss him, with great intensity behind it. A rushed exhale of relief comes from him, brushing across Richard’s skin. He begins passionately moving his mouth against his boyfriend’s. Richard hums into it and closes his eyes. He purses his lips against Schneider’s, lets the other man lead it. He feels Schneider’s curls brush against his cheeks, a feather-like caress that has a shudder running throughout him.

The sound of their kissing is loud in the quietness of the room, masked slightly by the distant sound of the music playing in the clothing store. Schneider crushes his lips to Richard’s, kisses him with such intent to consume. Their mouths mash and overlap together, pushing and pressing and sliding. Richard gasps for air in-between their moving lips, his brow knitting. Schneider’s lips part his, a firm insistence that Richard willingly allows. Their tongues meet, a shy, brief slide together that serves to intensify the kiss and Richard’s flustered state. Schneider angles his head further to deepen it, cupping the back of Richard’s head now, holding him close as he licks into his mouth, tasting him. Only when Schneider himself can barely breathe does he break away with a sharp inhalation to look at Richard with wide, dilated eyes.

Their lips are left red and kissed, cheeks tinted. Panting, Richard glances towards the door. Schneider clears his throat and murmurs thickly, earning Richard’s gaze again, “I want you. We can be quick.”

“What?” Richard breathes, looking at him with disbelief, “Really? Here? Paul and Ollie are waiting on us.”

“We can be quick,” Schneider repeats, eyes dropping to swim across Richard’s bare chest and abs, to settle on the waistband of his jeans where he brings his hands to begin undoing the button and zipper. He peeks up at Richard and says with intense, piercing eyes and a flush to his face which decorates his sharp cheekbones prettily, “You got me this way. Just—please. We’ll hurry. They won’t even know. I need you.”

“Jesus, Christoph,” Richard mutters, watching with shy eyes as he rips open his jeans and reaches in to begin groping at his stiffening cock with a broad hand, “You want to fuck me, in the dressing room of a clothing store. At the mall. With Paul and Ollie outside.”

 _“Yes,_ now hurry up,” Schneider growls, bringing his other hand in to slip both past Richard’s briefs, groping at his muscular ass firmly. Richard jerks, arching against Schneider’s body with a grunt slipping past his teeth. Richard lets out a shaky breath and hooks an arm around Schneider’s shoulders. He watches silently as the other man works down his jeans, followed by his underwear, exposing his trimmed hair and his cock which is becoming rather interested with this arrangement. Richard tips his head back and groans with impatience. Then he meets Schneider’s burning eyes and says quietly, “Fine. Let’s be quick. No more than five minutes.”

“Okay,” Schneider says, grinning slightly now with wide, excited eyes. Richard blushes. He reaches down to quickly undo Schneider’s jeans. He moves to kneel. Schneider is already breathing hard, watching with red cheeks and an open mouth as Richard tugs down his briefs and jeans to expose lean thighs, narrow hips, and his gorgeous cock. He grips it in a calloused hand, strokes at it a few times, his green eyes eating up the sight of his half-hard dick. Just like the rest of him, it’s impressive in size, and damn pretty. Richard doesn’t hesitate to lean in and suck the pink head into his mouth. Schneider’s big hand ends up around the back of his head, cupping gently.

“Good boy,” he hoarsely murmurs. Richard hums as he begins to suck him off with enthusiasm; he takes him deeper into his mouth, letting the thickness of his cock fill it, stretching his lips. He hollows his cheeks and sucks tightly as he repeatedly takes it into his mouth, a back and forth drag that has Schneider breathing heavily and stroking at the back of his neck, fingers shaky and almost timid.

The wet, vulgar noises are somehow amplified in the confining room. Richard lessens the force of his sucking to reduce the sound—he doesn’t want anyone hearing. Somehow, this situation only serves to turn him on. Kneeling, blowing Schneider while nearly-nude in a very public dressing room. He’s now completely hard, his cock aching and standing tall from his body, eager and asking.

He realizes he’s taking too long. He pulls off, panting, looks up at Schneider with glassy eyes and wet, swollen lips. Schneider looks equally debauched, his eyes lidded, cheeks ruddy, pretty thin lips slightly open. Richard moves to stand, reaches out to grab fistfuls of Schneider’s cute curls. He tugs him closer, aligns their bodies, their erections sliding together, hot skin meeting hot skin. Schneider’s broad, rough hands stroke around Richard’s hips to roam across his back. Richard moans softly, curls in closer to the other man. Schneider noses at his cheek and brow, his lips leaving soft, tender kisses against his skin.

“Fuck,” Richard murmurs, eyes downcast to Schneider’s beautiful body, “There’s no way they’re unsuspecting. This is crazy, Christoph.”

Schneider shushes him and angles his head to kiss him. Richard clutches desperately at his curls, furrows his brow and begins to kiss him back with enthusiasm behind the mashing of his lips. They don’t kiss for long; their mouths crush together, dancing and overlapping for only a moment, before Schneider pulls away, searches in his wide emerald eyes, and then murmurs thickly, “Put your hands against the mirror. I’m going to fuck you.”

Richard doesn’t hesitate. After kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his jeans, he turns to the mirror, places his hands upon it, stares at their reflection with awe. His face is a flushed, wet mess, his pupils blown wide. Schneider steps up behind him, spits thickly into his palm. Richard curses, realizing where this is going. Not out of fear of pain, but of anticipation. He may have been a bitch when it came to the flogging for Rosenrot, but that was a different kind of pain. This pain is different. _Schneider_ is causing him this pain. A pain that becomes pleasure.

Wiping the spit up between Richard’s muscular asscheeks, Schneider then spits into his hand again and repeats the process. Once Richard is thoroughly slick, Schneider gently forces in a finger, and then a second. Richard’s body involuntarily rocks towards the mirror, while he hisses through his teeth. He meets Schneider’s intense gaze through the mirror, his own face slightly strained from the (rather insignificant) stinging pain. Schneider’s eyes remain fixed on his as he leans in to kiss over his shoulder and neck, nosing at his black hair.

He doesn’t waste time. He fingers him for maybe thirty seconds, trying to be as thorough as possible with their limited timeframe, and then withdraws his fingers to spit into that hand again. He strokes it over his cock, already wet from Richard’s mouth, and then steps up closer behind him. He hooks his hands around his hips, tugs a little. Richard takes a step back, arches his spine to give Schneider a better angle. He watches past his shoulder with his bottom lip between his teeth as Schneider presses his hips to Richard’s ass. His slick cock rests against him, hot and hard. Richard brings a hand down to begin touching himself, tugging at his cock with a tight grip, his toes curling against the floor.

“I’ll stop if it hurts,” Schneider murmurs, resting one broad hand in the dip of Richard’s back. Richard nods, watches Schneider’s flushed, pretty face as he sweeps the head of his cock down to press it against him. His curls surround his elegant face, disheveled from their heated kissing and his brewing sweat. Richard wants to reach out and brush it back. He wants to know how it feels against his fingers, though he is quite familiar with the sensation.

Schneider grunts under his breath as he begins to push in, slowly. He’s definitely not small; it makes for a pain that has Richard gritting his teeth. He places his feet further apart, leans in to rest his forehead against the mirror. The stinging pressure of Schneider pushing in is uncomfortable, sparked by the occasional jolt of pleasure. He enjoys having Schneider inside of him like this—that knowledge, that feeling alone turns him on more than any physical sensation. Eyes downcast to the floor, he ducks his head, hiding his face as he releases his own erection to reach back and stroke his hand over Schneider’s thigh, fingers caressing along the swell of muscle, across fine hair and soft skin.

“Richard,” he hears Schneider moan in a whisper. Then his hips meet Richard’s ass, their legs pressing together, bodies aligning again. The hand on Richard’s back strokes up, and then down along his side, fingers curling into his pliable flesh. Richard’s belly swims with a heat. His cock drips thickly onto the hard flooring under them.

“Hurry,” Richard pants, “Move. Fuck me.”

Soft lips meet his shoulder. Richard glances up through the reflection of the mirror to see the other man curled over him, hands cupping his sides, his curls obscuring his face. His blue eyes flick up to meet his gaze as he kisses over his shoulder. He turns his head, noses at his hair. Richard shudders. Schneider then leans away and glances down to watch as he slowly pulls out, his broad, warm hands holding Richard still. Then he rocks back in, a slow push of his hips that has Richard grunting and arching onto his toes. Schneider is breathing shakily behind him, his chest heaving, his skin flushed.

Again, Schneider repeats the motion. He slowly rocks against Richard, easing the tension and stubbornness out of his body, until it becomes easier. Twice, Schneider pauses to let his spit drip down onto his cock, only to begin thrusting again, making for a smoother glide. Richard is panting and groaning under his breath now, his body jerking forward slightly with each firm connection of their bodies. Not fast enough to create obscene sound, but Schneider makes up for that by shoving his hips against Richard’s ass as soon as their bodies meet.

“You feel so good,” Schneider whispers to him, his hands drawing around his sides, stroking over his front, across muscle and developing beads of sweat. Richard huffs a laugh.

“You’re such an amateur,” he mutters, “I can practically feel your dirty talk make my dick as hard as cooked pasta, Christoph.”

Schneider leans in to bite the shell of his ear between his teeth—hard. Richard twists and whines, blurting, “Ay! You’re so sensitive! God! I was kidding!”

“Shut up,” Schneider hisses, and then begins to snap his pelvis against Richard’s ass at a harder, faster pace. It makes for deeper, rougher fucking that in turn, results in more noise. Richard moans softly, but with his hand resting along Schneider’s flexing thigh, he pushes harder and harder, until Schneider calms the fuck down and stops going so _damn hard_. Once Schneider slows to a gradual withdraw, followed by a deep slide back in, Richard lessens his stubborn pushing. Instead, he strokes at his thigh, feeling the muscle clench and work beneath pale skin.

“There you go,” Richard breathes, eyes closing, his mouth opening, “Go nice and slow, babe. Like that.”

“I thought you wanted to hurry,” Schneider pants, cupping his calloused hands around Richard’s belly, holding him still as he pumps his hips quickly, but quietly, against his ass. So deeply each time, he can feel Schneider’s balls firmly press against him, a very dirty feeling that only turns him on. Richard can’t produce a response; his mouth hangs open, his eyes fixated on their reflection. He sees Schneider’s body rocking behind him, their lower halves shifting and moving and writhing together, legs clenched, skin dripping, muscles flexing. Richard watches his own cock drip a line of pre-cum. He produces a choked noise when Schneider’s hand lowers from his belly to grip his shaft.

“You’re so hard,” Schneider murmurs to him, leaning in over his bent body, crowding him against the mirror, “You’re wet. I can feel it under my fingers. Feels that good? And here I thought you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t—Don’t let it get to your head—“ Richard pants out, his body beginning to involuntarily shake. He swallows hard and begins to say, “It’s your perfect cock, not your— _ah!”_

Schneider begins to stroke at his length, tugging at it with an assuredness, his fingers sliding and rubbing across the swell of the head, against the oversensitive nerves that has Richard twitching and jerking under him. He whimpers. He clamps his own hand over his mouth, his cheek meeting the mirror. His ragged exhales burst past the crevices of his fingers, fogging the glass.

“I’m close. Do you want me to pull out?” he hears Schneider ask roughly—his words brush across his shoulder in shaky exhales, he’s leaning in so closely. Richard shakes his head and jerks his hand down from his mouth to prop it against the mirror, for him to say breathlessly, “Inside me. As deep as possible.”

“Okay,” Schneider groans against his shoulder, giving two particularly hard thrusts which has Richard choking and pushing back. Schneider squeezes his cock in his hand, continues tugging at it determinedly as he murmurs against Richard’s hair, nuzzling into the dark locks, “Okay, baby.”

The succeeding rough shoves of Schneider’s hips against his ass has Richard grunting and gasping. Schneider then groans weakly under his breath, his panting brushing across Richard’s skin. He drives into Richard a dozen more times, not quite thinking of the noise they’re creating—hard enough it has Richard grimacing from the pain/pleasure of it—and then stills against him. The feeling of Schneider pushing in as deeply as possible, their bodies joined completely, has Richard’s belly clenching up and burning with fire. He feels it when Schneider’s cock throbs and twitches inside of him, followed by what he assumes is his ejaculation filling him. His deep, quieted moaning and hands clutching at Richard’s muscular chest are very convincing indications. Richard jerks his hand down from Schneider’s thigh to grip himself. He begins to touch himself, unbelievably turned on.

Schneider rocks into him a few more times, slowly, deeply—and that is enough. Richard comes with his head tipping back against Schneider’s shoulder, his hand squeezing around his angry red cock, motionless and speechless by the euphoria that consumes him. He manages to withhold the groan that wants to rip free. It comes out as a choked noise, trapped in his throat. His body trembles and ripples with tension as ropes of cum shoot out to sully the mirror and the wall.

Finally, Schneider pulls out, slowly, and it has Richard making a slight noise. He’s too sensitive.

Richard clenches up; he doesn’t want it dripping out. Schneider has other plans: with one hand, he grabs the back of Richard’s neck, pushes him into the mirror, and reaches down to stroke his fingers against his fucked hole, earning a jolt and gasp from the other man.

“Let me see,” Schneider murmurs roughly. Richard pants heavily, his entire body burning up. This is embarrassing. And dirty as hell. When Schneider spreads him open with one broad hand and stares, Richard huffs and says shakily, “You’re a fucking pervert.”

“That’s rich, coming from a whore like you,” Schneider growls lowly under his breath, “I did what you wanted. Do what I want.”

Okay, well, maybe Schneider’s dirty talking isn’t that bad. Richard’s belly surges with hot arousal, hearing him say such a filthy thing. He bites his lip. He’s still and silent as he obediently releases the clamp on his muscles. He feels it when Schneider’s cum gushes out of him. He gasps, reflexively places his feet further apart. Schneider’s hand keeps him spread open, exposed in his humiliation. It doesn’t seem to stop. When the flow diminishes, Richard feels the remnants slip out in thick droplets.

“Fuck,” he breathes, undeniably turned on. If he hadn’t come so soon, he know he could get hard again. Schneider then gropes a painfully hard handful of his ass. Richard clenches up and grunts. Gentler lips meet his shoulder blade, and then the back of his head.

“Put on your jeans. I don’t want you to clean up,” Schneider whispers, “I want you to feel my cum, wherever we go. Know I fucked you deeply five minutes, ten minutes before. You are mine. I claimed you, here and now.”

“You dirty fuck,” Richard mutters, blushing up to his ears. He nods a moment later regardless, flustered. Schneider gropes his ass again and then kisses his ear before withdrawing to begin redressing. Richard’s ass is sensitive and sore as he quietly steps back into his jeans, works them back up his legs to refasten the zipper and button. He watches the other man regain his composure, fixing up his pants again, raking his fingers through his curls. His heated blue eyes flick up to watch Richard. Richard silently grabs his tank top from where he set it on the bench.

The aftermath of getting fucked, the sensation, continues thrumming through his body. He feels shaky and restless, his nerves alive and responsive. The way his ass throbs from getting fucked raw, with hardly an excuse for lube, hurts in a way that only excites him. Schneider was right. He’s such a whore.

 

After they share a tender kiss and regather their composure (Richard ineffectively cleaning the mess he made from the mirror), they exit the dressing room. Richard huffs, shaking his head. Schneider looks over at him, curious.

“I didn’t even try on the damn shirt,” Richard mutters. Schneider snorts, giggling in that silly, adorable way that he does. Richard reaches out to squeeze his forearm, a subtly affectionate gesture, and then continues on towards Paul and Ollie, who are seemingly waiting for them at the entrance to the store. Paul is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with his head tipped back. Ollie has his hands in his pockets. Richard remembers to grab Schneider’s wrist and check his watch, as they approach the other two.

“Shit,” Richard growls, practically throwing Schneider’s wrist away, which earns a huff from the taller man, “We took way too long.”

Ollie stares at them with displeasure as they come to a stop beside them at the front door. Paul rolls his gaze over from the opposite wall to look at them blankly, lips pursed and brow set low. Richard swallows hard. Schneider is silent and unwilling to speak first.

Paul stands from leaning against the wall, arms remaining crossed. He glances between their faces, brow arched, prompting for them to say _something._ Richard is tense, unsure of what to say, while Schneider is sweating bullets. He hides beneath his curls by ducking his head down and becoming rather interested in his shoes. Richard casually slips on his sunglasses to hide his eyes.

Paul clears his throat. He puts a wry, strained smile on his face and tilts his head sarcastically.

“You two done fucking? Or shall we leave you at the next store, if you want to make use of _that_ changing room as well? There’s plenty in this mall, if you’d like to desecrate them all. Or perhaps the tour bus? Hell, why not just fuck everywhere we go? ‘Cause, really, I don’t think it would be a pain in the ass to anyone. Nope. Not inconsiderate at all—"

“We get it!” Schneider snaps, “For Christ’s sake, Paul—let's just move on!”

Paul scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Cause _I’m_ in the wrong here.”

Ollie turns to begin walking out of the store. Richard silently follows him, thoroughly embarrassed and unable to deal with the heated argument that is brewing—he already has enough regret. Schneider just sighs, shakes his head, and rubs at his eyes as he pushes past Paul to follow the other two.

“For the record!” Paul raises his voice as he hurries after them, “I _know_ about the tour bus, too! You two aren’t as smooth as you may think!”

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


End file.
